


It's Better than Feeling Alone

by pterawaters



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Child Derek and Stiles, F/M, Grief, M/M, Memory Alteration, Minor Character Death, Multi, Multiracial Stiles, Psychological Horror, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of his mother's funeral, Stiles makes a new friend and gets his first kiss, from a <i>werewolf</i> of all people. When Derek goes missing the night Jackson Whittemore dies, Stiles and Lydia find solace in each other. When Derek comes back to town, having run away from his family, how will Stiles navigate the choice between his boyfriend and the girl he's been in love with since elementary school?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Better than Feeling Alone

Stiles' mother dies when he's twelve years old. The next morning, while Stiles is hiding in his room from his grandparents and all the discussions about, "what Maria would have wanted," he hears a noise at his window. Looking in is an older boy with dark hair and a black jacket. Stiles goes to the window and asks through the glass, "What do you want?"

The boy's eyes are wide and wild. Desperate. He hisses, "I need a place to hide! C'mon, Stiles! Open the window!"

Stiles doesn't know this boy, but the boy must know him. Maybe they met already and Stiles forgot. He forgets a lot of things. Stiles opens the window. "Get in!" he cries. "Before someone sees you!"

The boy crawls in and whips around, pulling the window shut and dropping to kneel under it, peeking over the ledge. Stiles copies him. "Who are you hiding from?"

"My alpha," the boy says. He gives Stiles a smile and asks, "Who are you hiding from?"

"My _abuela_. She keeps trying to hug me."

The boy's dark black eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I don't know what that means."

"Oh," Stiles smacks himself in the forehead. Of course. Sometimes he forgets to translate. "My grandma."

"Why don't you want to hug her?"

Stiles shrugs. He asks, "What's an alpha?"

"My-" the boy presses his lips together and gives Stiles a long look. Eventually he asks, "Can you keep a secret?"

Stiles nods fervently. He's good at keeping secrets.

"I'm a werewolf."

Stiles hits the boy in the arm. "No you're not."

"I am! And my alpha is like, my _boss_ , only I can't quit being a werewolf, so she's my boss _for life_!"

"Why are you hiding from her?"

The boy sighs and shifts a little closer, whispering, "I did something bad to someone."

"A person? Did you eat them?" Stiles thinks he should probably be more afraid than he is.

"No, I made them forget. I make people forget things sometimes and I can't always control it like I should." 

"Ohhh." The boy's appearance here in Stiles' room makes so much more sense. "You must have done it to me, too. That's why I can't remember your name!"

"You-?" The boy rolls his eyes and then sticks his hand out for Stiles to shake. "Derek."

Stiles shakes it, surprised by how warm Derek's skin feels. Maybe werewolves run hot. "Stiles."

Derek smiles, his canines sharper than they should be and lifts up to look over the windowsill again. "I think I lost her."

Stiles kneels up and looks out the window too, his elbow brushing against Derek's. It feels nice. Solid like nothing feels solid since the day before. "How long do you need to hide?"

"Just until the alpha cools off. Maybe an hour?"

"Do you want to play Xbox?" Stiles points to the little tv and the game system sitting next to his desk. They're both second hand and sometimes don't work very well, but it's better than sitting around doing nothing.

"Sure." Derek grabs the controller next to his leg and plops down on Stiles' bed. "I have to warn you. I'm really good."

Smirking, Stiles says, "We'll see about that!"

Awhile later, Stiles' dad checks on him, but he doesn't say anything about how Derek is still sitting on Stiles' bed, frozen like a deer in headlights. "Dinner's in an hour."

"Okay, Dad." Stiles watches as his father leaves, shutting the door behind him. Derek's giving him a weird look, so Stiles explains, "He's got a lot on his mind right now. Maybe after the funeral, I'll introduce you."

"What funeral?"

"My mom."

The room goes quiet and Stiles hates the fact that he ruined the fun they were having. He wishes he could just live in a world where he never remembered his mom was dead. Or if he did, he wishes he wouldn't remember how much he loved her and how devastated he is now that she's gone. "Derek?"

"Yeah?" Derek puts down his controller and picks up his jacket from where he threw it on the floor.

"What kinds of things can you make people forget?" Stiles hates how thick his throat feels, aching with tears he won't let himself cry.

"Not those kinds of things." Derek approaches Stiles carefully, pulling on his coat before putting his arms around Stiles' shoulders. "Not things your soul knows."

"Damn it," Stiles says, hugging Derek back.

When Derek pulls away, he meets Stiles' eyes for a moment, his green eyes flashing unnaturally blue. Stiles doesn't know what to say, only that he's going to cry soon and he doesn't want Derek to see it. He opens his mouth to ask Derek to go, but the other boy leans forward and presses his lips against Stiles'. It's a brief kiss, Stiles' first, and Derek smiles when he breaks it. Stiles gapes.

"See ya later." Derek gets up and goes to the window, sliding it open. The afternoon air has turned chilly with twilight and smells like the hyacinths Stiles' mother planted out front when they moved into the house.

Stiles doesn't want Derek to go. Not quite yet. "Wait!"

"What?" Derek has one foot out the window, boot planted on the shingles.

"I don't remember how old you are."

Smirking, Derek says, "Thirteen."

Stiles would have guessed he was older, but maybe he does remember now, seeing Derek with the kids a grade above him. As he watches Derek scramble outside and over to the edge of the house so he can jump into the big oak tree and swing down to the ground, Stiles tries to make his soul remember the kiss. It's one thing in his life that he doesn't want to forget.

~~**~~

Stiles wants to tell Scott about Derek, but he doesn't. He wants to brag and say that he got his first kiss and that Derek is the coolest person they could ever possibly hope to know. But Stiles keeps it to himself. He thinks he wants one thing, one measly thing, to himself. He and Scott can talk about school and lacrosse and girls, but he doesn't want to talk to Scott about Derek.

Stiles thinks he's probably afraid of sharing Derek, of thinking about the reason Derek kissed him and reliving all that grief over again when he needs to function at school. He needs to focus.

One day, when Stiles gets out of a detention he never should have gotten in the first place, Derek is waiting at Stiles' locker in the empty hallway. "Hey."

"Hey," Derek says. "You doin' anything?"

"Just homework," Stiles replies, trying his combination twice before he gets his locker open. "Why?"

"I thought we could hang out. Maybe go to the library and do our homework and throw paper at the librarian?"

Stiles grins. "Mrs. Campbell is a nice lady!"

Derek taps his temple. "I'll make her forget. C'mon, it'll be fun. I'll help you study."

"Yeah, okay." Stiles grins and pulls out his phone, texting his father. At the library, Derek doesn't treat Stiles the way everyone else does - like he's just lost his mother. He treats Stiles like everything's normal and it feels like it is. Mrs. Campbell waves to Stiles with a smile on her face when he has to go meet his dad. Derek grins.

"You look happy," the sheriff says as he pulls away from the library. "You studying with Scott?"

Stiles doesn't even hesitate before lying. "Yeah, Dad. Scott and I had a great time."

They get drive-through burgers for dinner and Stiles thinks about the way Derek chewed on his pencil and tries to emulate the effect on his straw. "Don't do that," his dad says, raising one eyebrow. Stiles waits until the sheriff's back is turned before doing it again.

~~**~~

During the summer, Derek starts sneaking into Stiles' room once or twice a week. "How do your parents not know you're gone?" Stiles asks. "Aren't they werewolves? Wouldn't they notice?"

"Not while they're asleep." Derek grins and grabs the Dorito from Stiles' hand, crunching on it messily.

"Dick," Stiles laughs, pulling a handful of chips from the bag and shoving them all in Derek's face. Derek's teeth go sharp and one of them nicks Stiles' finger. "Ack!"

"Sorry!" Derek says, brushing the crushed chips away from his face and shirt. He pulls Stiles' finger close and looks at it before giving it a lick.

"What the-?" Stiles yanks his hand back, but already it feels better, like the injury never happened. "Whoa! That's so cool! Can you do that for any injury? Like a bullet wound?"

Derek laughs. "I don't want to test it!"

"That would be so gross," Stiles agrees, settling down next to Derek on the bed and starting the movie. "Would you go all bloodlust and try to eat the person?"

"I'll eat you if you don't shut up," Derek says, pushing Stiles' face away with a hand over his mouth. "I'm _trying_ to watch the movie."

"Doubt it," Stiles says against Derek's hand, which smells like grass and dirt. He settles down and watches the movie anyway.

~~**~~

The first week of freshman year Lydia Martin starts dating Jackson Whittemore. That night when Derek climbs in Stiles' window, Stiles grabs him by the lapels of his stupid leather jacket and kisses him. It's the first time they've kissed in two and a half years, only the second time total. Derek makes a surprised noise and then kisses him back. Stiles is fourteen for the next three weeks. Derek turned fifteen back in April. 

They make out on Stiles' bed until two am, when the sheriff comes home. Stiles pretends to be asleep and hopes his dad won't hear Derek climbing down the tree and escaping back home. He never caught Derek before, but now things are different. Stiles is different. He hopes his dad won't see it on his face in the morning and jerks off thinking about Derek's lips.

~~**~~

Stiles asks if Derek will come sit with him at lunch someday. Derek reminds him that they have opposite lunch hours because Derek has shop class. Stiles laughs and accuses Derek, again, of being Danny Zuko, if Danny Zuko couldn't sing or dance, because Derek definitely can't do either of those. Stiles doesn't care, of course.

After the fourth time they make out, Stiles asks if they're boyfriends. Derek says, "I wish we could be."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Derek says, crawling over Stiles and kissing him down against his pillow, "that werewolf laws are strict. If my family finds out I'm messing around with a boy, they'll send me upstate to stay with my uncle's pack."

"Oh," Stiles says, pushing Derek away and sitting up. "Are those the wolves that are super scary survivalists?"

"Uh-huh," Derek says, leaning in and kissing Stiles' jaw.

"So why are you still seeing me? You like girls too, just like me. Wouldn't it be easier if you saw one of them?"

"Because I like _you_ ," Derek insists. "And if they try to make me leave you, I'll kill them."

Stiles thinks Derek is being serious. "Don't," he insists. "Don't hurt your family because of me. I couldn't stand it. I'd break up with you."

Derek frowns and says, "I wasn't being serious. I just- It would suck if they found out, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles agrees. "I won't tell anyone."

~~**~~

One day in junior year, while Stiles is lying in bed with Derek, he says, "I hate Jackson Whittemore."

Derek trails a hand up Stiles' back. "Why?"

"Because he's a douchebag?" Stiles scoffs and buries his head under his pillow. He knows his words will be muffled, but he says what's on his mind anyway. "And I don't like how he treats Lydia."

"He takes her for granted," Derek agrees before shifting on the bed and throwing a leg over the closest one of Stiles'. "Let's talk about something else."

Ignoring Derek's request, Stiles peeks out from under his pillow to say, "And he humiliated me in the locker room today. I know I shouldn't take it personally, but it's difficult when he trips you and laughs at you for no reason other than you're there and not worth treating any better."

"Want me to kick his ass for you?"

"No." Stiles pouts as he turns to face Derek, putting a hand through Derek's dark hair. "He'd just have his dad sue you. He think's he so untouchable."

"Are _you_ untouchable right now? Am I gonna have to do this myself?"

Laughing, Stiles shakes his head and pulls his shirt off, throwing it onto the floor. "I'm right here with you."

~~**~~

The night before the championship lacrosse game, Jackson Whittemore dies in his sleep. Stiles can't find Derek anywhere. He goes to the game and halfway through, Danny Mahealani gets injured. Coach runs up to the bench where Stiles and Scott are warming it and cries, "Bilinski, you're in!"

"I'm in?" Stiles cries, completely surprised. He's the worst player on the team. "What about Scott?"

Beside him, Scott pipes up, "I was so shaken up by what happened to Jackson, I forgot my inhaler at home."

"Oh, for the love of..." Stiles puts on his helmet and runs out onto the field.

He doesn't suck nearly as much as he thought he would. Stiles gets the feeling that the whole team is playing their asses off in Jackson's honor. Stiles is playing for the insane hope that maybe if he plays well enough, Derek will come find him and congratulate him and insist that he had nothing to do with Jackson's death.

Stiles doesn't score the winning goal, but he makes a few assists he's proud of and Beacon Hills wins the game. Stiles' dad has never looked so happy. He says, "Your mom would be proud, son."

"Hell yeah, she would!" Stiles cries before throwing himself at Scott in victory.

Derek doesn't come to Stiles' window that night. Or the next. Or the next. Stiles is beginning to think Derek got shipped to his uncle's pack and Stiles is never going to see him again. He doesn't cry about it, but it puts a pall over the big championship win. Everyone thinks Stiles is just subdued because of Jackson's funeral. Lydia cries on his shoulder.

~~**~~

Summer comes around and Stiles still hasn't seen Derek. He and Lydia get drunk off Stiles' dad's whiskey. She says, "Your eyes are the same color as this bottle," and kisses him.

Stiles pulls back and says, "I might have a secret boyfriend."

Lydia laughs, her limbs slow and moving like they're weightless as she tilts her head back and guffaws. "Of course you do. And what do you mean by, 'might'?"

Giggling, Stiles leans his head against Lydia's and says, "I haven't seen him for _months_. He never said goodbye. I think his parents found out about us."

"And sent him away?" Lydia sighs loudly and pushes a hand into her messy red hair. "At least he's not dead."

"He could be," Stiles admits, his drunken giggles fading away.

Lydia situates herself between Stiles' legs and leans back on his chest. A moment later, Lydia tilts her head back until she's looking up Stiles' nose. "I'm afraid I'm forgetting him. I keep going through the pictures I have of him, trying to remember exactly what his voice sounded like."

"I don't even have a picture of Derek." Stiles sniffs at the thought. How could he have spent _years_ seeing Derek in secret and never think to take one little picture of him?

Stiles thinks about dead loved ones and photographs some more and then tells Lydia, "I remember pictures of my mom much more clearly than I remember her. Sometimes I remember being with her at a certain event, and then I realize I wasn't even born yet and I'm just remembering a picture. It sucks."

"It does suck," Lydia agrees, rubbing her head against his chest and closing her eyes. Stiles knows it means she's about to pass out on him, but he doesn't think he'll mind.

Stiles passes out as well, before he gets much of a chance to find out.

~~**~~

Lydia figures out how to dupe her parents into buying alcohol and shares it with Stiles, coming over on the nights his dad is working and telling her parents she's at Allison's. The third time Stiles gets drunk with Lydia it's two days before the fourth of July. Someone in his neighborhood keeps randomly setting off firecrackers and it pisses Lydia off so much, "Why can't they just _wait_? Everyone else in this world has to wait to get what they want!"

Stiles kisses Lydia to get her attention, fully expecting a fist in the face for his effort. Lydia jumps him instead. They have sex in Stiles' bed, lying on their sides facing each other, sucking on each other's tongues, with a condom Lydia had in her purse. Even though she's incredibly drunk - Stiles is pretty sure she couldn't walk more than five feet without stumbling - Lydia remembers to keep things safe. Stiles likes that about her.

They both pass out after and when Stiles wakes up, it's with Derek looking down at him. Heart leaping into his chest, Stiles tries not to flail hard enough to wake up Lydia as he sits. Several strings of words run through Stiles' mind - questions he should ask, accusations he should level. What he says is, "Where _were_ you?"

"Up north," Derek replies, his face annoyingly blank. Stiles doesn't know if he should be mad or if he should fear for his life.

"Why didn't you call?"

"No phone." Derek leans to one side to see past Stiles. Lydia is lying there on her stomach, arms curled up under her chest and facing the other way. Her back and ass are bare, the sheet pooled at her feet. There's barely enough room on the twin bed for both her and Stiles, but somehow they'd made sleeping side-by-side work. Stiles expects Derek to look hurt at finding him in bed with another person, but Derek looks impressed instead. "She's even hotter naked."

"What?" Stiles does get out of bed then, grabbing his boxers from the floor and putting them on. "Is this some weird jealous head trip you're laying on me?" Lydia stirs and Stiles drops his voice lower, taking Derek's arm and leading him toward the door. He notices that Derek has had a growth spurt, that Stiles has to actually look up to meet his eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know where you were. I thought you were either dead or didn't want me anymore."

Derek snorts and levels his gaze on Stiles. He's so focused, it's almost scary. Stiles' heart beats in overtime and he knows Derek can hear it, the smug bastard. "I always want you. I made it back here, didn't I?"

Stiles smiles, pulling Derek closer and nodding. "In the morning, I'll tell Lydia I can't see her anymore." 

"You could do that." One of Derek's eyebrows lifts up. "Or you could share."

Confused, Stiles pulls away from Derek and closes his mouth when he realizes he'd let it fall open. A second later, he asks, "Share _her_ with _you_? She'd never go for it. I mean, it's not like she owes me anything. This is the first time we slept together, for Christ's sake. I can't ask her to bone my boyfriend."

"So we make her think I'm you," Derek says, slipping past Stiles and toward the window, which he closes before lowering the blinds. Without the light from the street, Stiles' room gets pitch black. Derek's voice is suddenly close at Stiles' ear, breath tickling his neck. "And if that doesn't work, I'll make her forget."

"No," Stiles says, even though he can't help but lean back against Derek's chest and bare his throat to those lips. "That's so not cool. Even if she doesn't remember." A chill runs through Stiles' body. "Have you ever made me forget?"

"Never," Derek says fiercely, grabbing Stiles by the hips and pulling his ass in close against Derek's crotch. "I love you. I ran away from my pack for you. I'd never make you forget."

"You left your pack?" Stiles asks, turning around in Derek's arms so he can look up at Derek's face, even if it's too dark to see. "You left your family? For me?" His stomach drops. "And I couldn't even wait six months for you before I ... Shit. I-I..."

Derek nips at Stiles' jaw and whispers in his ear, "You let me do this, we'd be even, you know. Fair and square."

"I don't think it works that way-"

Derek sucks air over his teeth and shivers. "And to put my dick where you just had yours? It would be so hot."

Stiles tries to ignore the tone in Derek's voice, but it's making his blood hot and his palms tingle. He tries to argue, saying, "We used a condom."

"Doesn't matter. I'll use one too. Your dad keeps them under the sink in his bathroom. I don't think he'll miss one."

"How do you even know that?"

"How do you not?"

Sighing, Stiles drops his head against Derek's chest and hears the quick, excited thud of Derek's heart. He pictures what Derek must be picturing, Derek spread out over Lydia's back, thrusting into her, making her moan the same moans Stiles coaxed out of her just a couple hours ago. Stiles wants to see it. He wants to watch Derek. He wants to watch Lydia. He doesn't know what he wants, but he knows he's a bad person for wanting it. "I'll ask her if she's up for another round with 'me'."

"I'll go get that condom."

When Derek leaves the room, light from the nightlight in the hallway falls across Lydia's bare back. Stiles shivers. After two attempts to take the first step, he gets back in bed with Lydia and runs one hand down her back, over her ass. "Lydia?" he says in her ear.

"Hmm?" she asks, clearly still out of it with sleep and alcohol. Stiles thinks she sounds beautiful.

"Like, feel free to say no, but since you're still here..." He kisses her neck and caresses the curve where her ass meets the top of her leg. His dick stirs against the mattress, like it's searching for skin to rub against. "Think we could go again?"

Lydia makes a noise and Stiles can't tell if it's a moan or a groan until she grabs his wrist and moves his hand between her legs. Her voice is thick and slurred as she says, "Don't forget to wrap it up, sailor."

Stiles grins. "I won't. I've got one. Don't worry."

Slipping his fingers into the sticky-moist folds around Lydia's vagina, Stiles finds that hardening nub she showed him earlier and begins to stroke, to get her ready for Derek. He can't help but slip his free hand under himself and wrap it around his cock while he kisses the back of Lydia's neck. 

Derek returns, closing the door behind him so the room goes black again. Laying his body against Stiles' back, plasticy condom already on the dick pressed against Stiles' ass, Derek trails his fingers down Stiles' arm and pulls his hand away from Lydia. She makes a distressed noise, but Derek must take over, because she sighs in contentment. Stiles can't exactly feel what Derek's doing and he can't see, so he asks Lydia, "How does that feel?"

"Great," she replies and the way she sounds like she's talking about a salad or a shoe sale makes Stiles grin against the back of her neck. "Come on," she adds, wiggling beside him. 

Derek leans up and pushes at Stiles' shoulder until Stiles is on the floor beside the bed and hearing the mattress creak as Derek climbs on top of Lydia. Stiles licks his palm and returns it to his dick. Lydia gasps and then moans, "Oh, yes. Stiles!"

The slippery-slick sounds of sex start off slowly, but soon the bed rocks with Derek's thrusts. Lydia's high-pitched whine punctuates every one. Stiles can't see anyway, so he closes his eyes and imagines, letting the sounds fill in the gaps. His hand works over his dick and he tells himself not to come too soon, not to ruin things for Derek, who gets to be buried in Lydia's hot, wet body, who gets to smell the shampoo on her hair and the sweat on her back and the way her vagina leaks and makes the whole room smell like sex.

Lydia shrieks first and Stiles can tell by the way Derek's breath stutters that he's coming too. Stiles lets himself go, but he holds his breath, keeping back the groan he wants to give. He can't let Lydia know he's kneeling next to the bed and not on top of her like he should be. After a moment, the mattress shifts and Lydia asks, "Hey, where'd you go?"

Something plops wet into the garbage can next to Stiles' desk and so he says, "Just getting rid of the condom," and climbs back into bed with her, wiping his come he collected in his hand onto the sheets. A large hand presses against the back of Stiles' neck, squeezing lightly. Stiles can tell it's a thank you. Lydia wraps his arm around her waist and settles back against him.

When her breaths grow shallow and slow, Stiles hears Derek slip out of the room and then out the window in his father's bedroom. He shivers and goes back to sleep.

~~**~~

In the morning, Lydia pulls herself together, wrapping her summer shawl around her shoulders. She gives Stiles a long look before speaking, her voice rough and low. "I _hate_ not remembering. I'm afraid I'm going to forget something important. I'm afraid that every time you touch me, a little bit of Jackson gets erased."

"Then why did you come drink with me in the first place?" Stiles asks, pushing down the urge to confess that it wasn't just him that had touched her last night. "Why did you kiss me?"

Shrugging one shoulder, Lydia says, "It's better than feeling alone."

~~**~~

Stiles is doing some of his summer reading for his AP Lit class in fall when his dad wakes up and wanders in. He leans on Stiles' desk and asks, "Who's the girl?"

Stiles and Lydia had still been sleeping when the sheriff got home and part of Stiles hoped that his dad would have respected his privacy and not checked in on him. Yeah, that's a false hope. "Uh," Stiles says, putting his book aside and sitting up. "Lydia?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Great. Dad is doing his interrogation routine.

"Her name is Lydia," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "Lydia Martin. You want me to write you a biography?"

"Just her parent's phone number," the sheriff replies, his face covered in don't-bullshit-me-kid. "So I can let them know when she's here."

Stiles jumps out of bed and cries, "No, you can't do that!"

"And just why not? Is she eighteen?"

"No," Stiles says. He's had Lydia's birth date ingrained in his memory since third grade. She turns eighteen on March 3rd. "She's just having a really hard time since Jackson died. Can't she have one place where she feels safe?"

Stiles isn't sure that Lydia comes to him for safety. He's pretty sure she comes to him because he's the only one who doesn't patronize her grief, saying Jackson was just a high school boyfriend and shouldn't she be over it by now? Stiles knows you never really get over losing someone you loved all the way down to your soul.

The sheriff levels his index finger at Stiles, meeting his eyes harshly. "You tell me when she's staying over, so I know where she is if her parents report her missing. And no grandkids!"

"That's … it was just a one time thing," Stiles tells his father, absolutely convinced of the fact. "I promise."

Dad scoffs. "Yeah. Sure thing, Stiles." He walks away, muttering, "One time thing. Like I'd believe _that_... Teenagers!"

Stiles feels like he's gotten away with something bigger than having a girl spend the night.

~~**~~

"I really wish you could have come with," Stiles tells Derek as he traces the dark lines of Derek's spiral tattoo. Derek got it while he was away and Stiles has become a little obsessed with touching it. "Fourth of July at the McCall place is like this big tradition and you've never come along. Mrs. McCall keeps trying to set me up with one of Scott's cousins."

"I can't risk someone telling my family they've seen me," Derek replies, his words garbled a little by the way his face rests against his forearms and Stiles' pillow underneath.

"Yeah, I know." Stiles pouts, scooting back further so he's sitting on the backs of Derek's knees and kneading the muscles in his lower back. "Imprisoned, forced to shift, turned over to the hunters, blah, blah, blah. You've told me, Der. But it sucks."

"Once you're done with school, we'll leave this place and we can go to as many parties as you want."

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know," Stiles says, grinning against Derek's back as he kisses up and down his spine.

Derek turns over and manhandles Stiles until he's lying down on top, his back to Derek's chest. Stiles feels exposed like this, his head unsupported and his neck bared. The way Derek's warm hands rub up and down over Stiles' chest helps him feel grounded. And safe.

When the door opens, Derek is thrusting up lazily into Stiles' ass and Stiles has his own hand on his cock, working it slowly. He freezes at the sound and opens his eyes to see Lydia at the door, her jaw hanging open. "Lydia!"

"Sorry!"

She starts to go, but Derek whispers in Stiles' ear, "Tell her to wait."

"Wait!"

Lydia stops in the doorway, her back to Stiles. She doesn't turn around, but she pauses, one hand on the door jamb, like she needs it to hold her up.

Derek's voice is warm honey in Stiles' ear. "Tell her to come back. Tell her you need her to come back."

Swallowing against the nervous spit pooling in his mouth, Stiles says, "I– I need you to come back."

Lydia turns, her eyes finding Stiles' and locking on them. She takes one step back into the room. Then another. Her eyes don't look away from Stiles'.

Derek whispers again. "Tell her to take off her clothes."

It's never going to work, but Stiles says it anyway. "You should take off your clothes."

Eyes still on Stiles, Lydia grips the hem of her blouse and pulls it up over her head. She unzips her jeans and kicks them off, and by the time she reaches the bed, she's not wearing anything.

She won't look away from Stiles and he can't tell if the look she's giving him makes him aroused or sick. Maybe it's both.

"Condoms are in the drawer," Derek whispers, rocking his hips and making Stiles gasp.

Pointing, Stiles repeats, "Condoms are in the drawer."

Lydia doesn't even look away as she reaches over to the open drawer, pulls out a condom, and opens it. She keeps her eyes on Stiles' as she slides the condom onto his dick and as she climbs on top of him. 

"Tell her to fuck you."

"Fuck me."

Lydia sinks down onto Stiles' cock. She's tight and not slippery like she was before, and Derek's hips lifting Stiles' hips up off the bed don't give her a lot of room to work with, but Lydia doesn't let these facts stop her from working her way down. "Stiles," she whispers, a plea in her voice and her eyes still locked on his.

Stiles puts his hands on Lydia's hips, holding her down on him for a moment, savoring the way she feels around him. "God, Lydia." He closes his eyes and lets Lydia raise up before pulling her back down onto him just as Derek gives another slow thrust. "Oh, fuck."

"Stiles," Lydia cries again, one of her hands pressing down against his chest. He opens his eyes and watches as a tear falls from the tip of Lydia's nose onto her hand. Her eyes are closed now, squeezed together and leaking. 

"Shh," Derek breathes into Stiles' ear. "It'll be over soon."

"It's okay, Lydia," Stiles says, reaching up with one hand to brush another tear off her face. "It'll be over soon. Let us make you feel good."

"Us?" Lydia asks, opening her eyes. She meets Stiles' gaze again and shudders, dropping down onto him hard. "Oh! Stiles, please!"

Everything is tight, and bright, and full, and moving, but not moving fast enough until the slow pace Derek set suddenly becomes enough and Stiles _comes_. He breaks eye contact with Lydia, throwing his head back and keening until it strains his throat.

As he comes down, his limbs going limp and Derek thrusting to completion inside him, Lydia steps away. Stiles doesn't open his eyes until Derek has come, whispering in Stiles' ear, "So good, baby. So _perfect_."

When Stiles finally does look, he finds Lydia pulling her clothes on with shaking hands. "What's wrong?"

Shaking her head from side to side, Lydia doesn't look at him. She keeps her eyes down, but her voice is shattered when she speaks. "What's wrong? I didn't– I came to _talk_ to you! I didn't come here for _that_ , Stiles! I didn't want… How did you…?"

Stiles rolls off of Derek and sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his condom and throwing it at the trash can next to his bed. "What? Lydia, you're not making any sense."

"You _made_ me do it," she says, pointing a finger at him, but still keeping her gaze on the wall behind him. "God, Stiles! What _are_ you?"

Stiles looks back at Derek, but he's lying there with this self-satisfied grin like nothing's wrong. Stiles smacks him in the gut before standing up following Lydia to the door. "Lydia! Lydia, I'm just a guy! I didn't make you do anything!"

She finally turns and looks Stiles in the eye, her face flushed with righteous fury and tears glimmering in her eyes. "Yes you _did_! And I'm going to make sure everyone knows to stay away from you, Stiles. The first thing anyone thinks when they hear your name will be, 'rapist'!"

Stiles' eyes go wide and he feels sick. He's not a rapist! All he did was ask, didn't he? Lydia did the rest. Oh, god. What if she makes everyone think Stiles is some kind of monster? What if his dad finds out?

Lydia slips away, but Derek gets up off the bed and stomps out the door after her. Stiles doesn't think anything of Derek's intent until Lydia screams. "No!" Stiles cries, running out the door after them. "Derek, no! Don't hurt her!"

Derek has Lydia pinned to the wall, her head inches from the framed painting of a fish that the Sheriff put up to replace the family portrait neither one of them wanted to walk by any longer. Derek's hands hold Lydia's wrists at her sides and he has one hip pressed to her belly. Lydia looks over and cries out weakly, "Stiles! Please!"

"Don't hurt her, Derek," Stiles insists, running over to them and pulling on Derek's shoulder. "Derek! Let her go!"

Derek's eyes flash bright blue. "She's going to ruin your life, Stiles. She's going to betray you and lie about you until you have _nothing_ left. We have to get rid of her."

"No!" Stiles cried, wedging himself between Derek and Lydia. "No! We'll just … we'll make her forget. Derek, make her forget. It'll work. No one will know."

Derek steps back abruptly. "Do you love her?" he asks, his canines long and sharp.

"No!" Stiles follows Derek, putting his arms up around Derek's shoulders. "No. I only love you. I swear."

Stiles glances over his shoulder at Lydia, who's still pressed back against the wall. She trembles, and her wide eyes leak a steady stream of tears. Stiles' heart hurts for her. Lydia swallows and asks, "What's going on, Stiles? What are you doing?"

"You won't remember," Derek says, shaking off Stiles and stepping around him to grab Lydia. He picks her up and brings her back to Stiles' room, ignoring the blood-curdling scream she lets out. "Get dressed," Derek says to Stiles. "And put on the end of a sad movie. You watched a movie together."

"Right," Stiles replies, following Derek back into the room. He doesn't watch as Derek silences Lydia's screams to muffled sobs, instead pulling his boxers and his shirt on while he queues up the saddest movie he can think of: _Gladiator_. He skips to near the end and pulls on his pants before turning to face Derek.

Derek's nude back hides most of Lydia, so Stiles steps around until he can see her. She sits almost lifeless on the edge of the bed, her wrists in Derek's hands and her eyes staring straight ahead. Stiles notices the veins in Derek's arms start to crawl and turn black, and as much as the sight terrifies Stiles, he also finds it fascinating and more than a little arousing. And then Derek begins speaking, his voice low like he uses when he's trying to get Stiles off. It crosses all sorts of wires in Stiles' brain that he'd rather not unpack at the moment. "You've been watching a movie with Stiles. Nothing else happened. No one else was here. You're sad about the movie. You feel no pain."

Then Derek looks up at Stiles. "It's done."

Even as Derek moves away from her Lydia doesn't move. She doesn't focus on the screen or anything else, just stares straight ahead like a zombie. Derek stoops to pick up his jeans and pulls them on before stopping to place a kiss on Stiles' shoulder. "When she comes to, send her home. I'll be back once she's gone."

"Wait," Stiles says, catching Derek's wrist in his hand. "What happened? What did we do to her? What did _I_ do?"

Derek shakes his head and asks, "Do _you_ want to forget, too?"

"No," Stiles snaps without even thinking about it. He takes a breath and lets it go. "No. Thank you." Stiles doesn't elaborate out loud, but he has to admit, Derek's ability freaks him out. He doesn't want to forget _anything_. Not anymore. 

One phrase lives in his head as Stiles watches Derek slip out of the room, and then sits down next to Lydia on the bed. "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

Stiles shivers.

"Oh, are you cold?" Lydia asks, smiling at him as she wipes a tear from her eye. "You should put on a sweater or something." She laughs and points on the screen. "God, I never knew how sad this movie was before!"

"Yeah," Stiles says, wrapping his arms around himself. "Yeah, it's a real tear-jerker."

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone cares to, I would very much appreciate some feedback on where to take the story next. It's been stuck here for quite a while because I don't know how to end it! So, what would you like to see happen? What would you not like to see? Thank you in advance!
> 
> You can also visit me [on tumblr](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com/) if you'd like.


End file.
